


I Keep on Hoping We’ll Eat Cake by the Ocean

by punk_rock_yuppie



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Bakery AU, F/M, FlashVibe Week 2016, M/M, Multi, Silly, no powers au, sorta - Freeform, technically part of, wedding au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-16
Updated: 2016-07-16
Packaged: 2018-07-24 10:37:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7504999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punk_rock_yuppie/pseuds/punk_rock_yuppie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iris had insisted on a beach wedding—that’s all fine and dandy, but Barry really wants to sleep with the cake’s baker and he’s not exactly enthused by the prospect of sand in unsavory places.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Keep on Hoping We’ll Eat Cake by the Ocean

**Author's Note:**

> originally this was written for the first flashvibe week earlier this year but i only just got around to finishing it oops
> 
> enjoy!!

Barry’s head is in his hands as he waits patiently. He’s alone in a plush chair, surrounded by ceiling-to-floor mirrors and various women wandering about in lavish gowns. He nods politely when they make eye contact, and gives his opinion when they prompt him—which is often, and unsurprising, but no less tiring. He’s not much of a fashion-oriented guy. He can dress himself and look pretty damn decent, but he couldn’t tell a McQueen from a Vera Wang even if someone paid him. He’s got a decent eye for color, but in all honesty he thinks people in general are pretty attractive: a crazy expensive designer gown covered in crystals doesn’t change much, in Barry’s opinion.

Eventually, though, the door to his right creaks open and the woman he’s been waiting to see strolls into the room. It’s like a scene out of a movie as all heads snap to the sound and their eyes latch onto Iris’ sleek frame, draped in a stunning [white wedding dress](https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/564x/fa/43/ec/fa43ec2ee7a7b653f08d98611856200d.jpg). It hugs her curves and the beading along the bust curves like vines; the sweetheart neckline frames Iris’ collarbones and is just revealing enough that Barry feels a little weird staring—but not so revealing that Joe will have a fit. The boning might set off his temper, Barry thinks, but it’ll be worth it for how gorgeous Iris looks.

The beaded swirls finally stop as they hit the curve of Iris’ hips and Barry’s gaze keeps traveling down her form. Underneath the long, softly pleated layer of chiffon, the solid white skirt of the dress stops a few inches above Iris’ knee. Barry tilts his head to take a look at the train flowing behind Iris as she walks forward; she’s glowing, grinning bright and flushed pink. Her hands are curled daintily in the sheer overlay to keep from stepping on it. When she finally stands in front of Barry, she does a careful twirl.

“What do you think, Barry?” She asks, breathless.

Barry grins. “It’s great, Iris. It’s amazing.” He finally rises out of the chair and reaches out to feel the beading.  They’re stark against the delicate white of the dress, but they’re still a gentle detail, the furthest thing from gaudy. “The train seems a little long,” Barry remarks as he peers around Iris again and looks at the fabric trailing behind her.

Iris nods. “Yeah, for a beach wedding, it’s totally impractical.” She gathers the fabric closer. “I was talking to the consultant, though, and she’s gonna ask Pnina if we can make some changes!”

Barry can’t help it; he raises a surprised eyebrow. “They do that?”

“Oh Barry,” Iris laughs, slapping his arm good-naturedly. “Of course they do that.”

Barry nods along. “Alright.” He has no idea how this works, but he’s happy to be here anyway. After everything he and Iris have been through, it feels like an honor to get to be here with her. The ups and downs of their relationship, the ons and offs again they’ve dealt with over the years shouldn’t have culminated in a stronger friendship…and yet, here they are. It’s been over a year since their last, definitely final break up, and it’s been barely a year since Iris met Eddie.

Iris grins at him. “Do you think Eddie will like it?”

“Uh, I think you could wear anything and he’d like it,” Barry admits.

Iris waves a hand in Barry’s face, half shushing him and half scolding him. “But will he like _this_?” She gestures to the dress again, taking a step back as though to allow Barry a better look.

Barry rolls his eyes. “Yes, Iris, he’ll love it. You look amazing. And if they can make the change to the train, then it’ll be even better.”

Iris sighs, exhausted but laced with excitement. “I can’t believe it. I can’t believe I’m actually _doing_ this.”

“Yeah,” Barry hums in agreement, “I can’t believe it either.”

A beat of silence passes before Iris looks up at him, dead serious. “It means a lot to me that you’re here, Barry. It means a lot to me _and_ Eddie that you’re supporting this. I know dad is kind of having a fit right now, but he’ll get over it—”

“Especially after he sees you in this,” Barry says with a smile.

Iris pauses to grin bashfully; she tucks stray hair behind her ear before continuing. “But,” she starts again, “until he comes around, it’s really great to have you on my side.”

Barry reaches out and pulls Iris in for a hug. “I’m always on your side, Iris. You know that.”

She sniffles, face buried in the fabric of Barry’s shirt. He can feel her crying softly and strokes his fingers comfortingly along her back. They stand like that, Barry all too aware of the odd looks their earning, until the consultant comes back with another woman in tow. Finally, Iris steps back and Barry sinks back into his chair. He watches as Iris chatters, eyes still wet but face otherwise delighted, with the consultant and the woman—Pnina Tornai, Barry learns once their conversation is nearly over.

Barry isn’t really paying attention; he perks up only a few times, like when Iris mentions _no, that’s not the groom_ in reference to him, and when Pnina agrees to adjust the train, and when he catches them talking about the nearly eight-thousand-dollar price tag. He leans forward at that and not for the first time he’s thankful he’s not getting married any time soon. His wallet aches at the sheer thought of how much this is going to cost, and he doesn’t envy Joe or Eddie’s parents.

Barry relaxes again when he realizes Iris isn’t freaking out about the price—later she’ll tell him the initial budget for the dress alone is closer to twelve grand, and Barry can’t decide if that makes things better or worse—and settles back into the chair as Iris goes with Pnina and the consultant to discuss more adjustments. With the excitement of Iris gone, Barry lapses back into the situation he was in before: unwitting sounding board for the brides-to-be flitting around the store.

-

“Do I really have to be here for this?” Barry asks, feeling uncomfortably like a third wheel being crammed on a couch with Iris beside him and Eddie on her other side. “It’s your guys’ cake, not mine.”

Iris scoffs, “you’re so picky, if you don’t help us pick a flavor you’re not gonna eat any cake and I’ll feel bad.” She turns as best she can on the cramped couch and bats her eyes at Barry. “You don’t want me to feel bad on my wedding day, do you Barry?” Her tone is far too sweet to be remotely genuine, but her voice doesn’t waver and she keeps a straight face.

Barry sighs. “Fine,” he concedes. “I’m not gonna say no to free cake.”

Eddie laughs and reaches around Iris to clap Barry on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit, Barry!”

Their laughter and conversation is interrupted by the door nearby opening. All at once, the three of them turn to look—and Barry’s breathe catches in his throat. A blush immediately burns at the apple of his cheeks and the nape of his neck; his palms turn clammy in an instant and the urge to bounce his knee to relieve some tension is almost overwhelming. The urge to bolt is also nearly overwhelming, but Barry manages to sit mostly still as the baker for the wedding flashes them a sheepish grin and settles into the chair across from them.

He has a book tucked under his arm and his hair is pulled into a messy ponytail. Thick framed black glasses slip down his nose as he leans forward and lays the book out on the coffee table between them. Once it’s open to the first page, he looks up and holds out his hand. “I’m Cisco Ramon.”

He shakes Eddie’s hand first, then Iris’, then Barry’s. Barry’s heart skips a beat as their fingers brush pulling away, but Cisco just turns his attention back to the book.

“So, this is a portfolio of what I can do looks-wise for your cake. Pretty much anything is on the table as long as it isn’t offensive,” he looks up with a grin, “you wouldn’t believe some of the requests I get.” He pauses to turn the page and pull out a typed up list riddled with handwritten changes. “Those are the flavors. Some are tried-and-true, things I’ve been making since I was a kid. Some of the ones toward the bottom,” he gestures to a few of the handwritten ones, “are just ideas but I’m willing to work with them. Or, if there’s any flavor you don’t see on here that you’re interested in, I’m up for the challenge.”

Cisco sits back, pleased with himself. Iris takes the paper from him and she and Eddie huddle closer together to go over the available flavors. Barry knows he should lean over, too, and give his input, but he can’t seem to take his eyes off Cisco. Cisco, who’s wearing skinny corduroy jeans—Barry didn’t even know those were a _thing_ —with a soft gray shirt that reads [_“vibes speak louder than words”_  ](http://www.headlineshirts.net/vibes-speak-louder-than-words-t-shirt.html#.V4qgurgrKhc) layered beneath an artfully rumpled black blazer. Barry can admit, he’s kind of enamored with the stranger before him. Something about Cisco is just immediately magnetic, and Barry realizes they’re going to be seeing Cisco often as the recipe and design for the cake comes together.

“Barry? Earth to Bartholomew?”

Barry flushes a deeper red and shoots Iris a glare.

“Well! You weren’t listening!” Iris scolds. “Eddie and I were thinking the lemon cake with a strawberry buttercream frosting.” Iris holds out the flavor list for Barry to take.

He nods, a little absent-minded. “That sounds really good,” he agrees. He gives the look a careless once-over, distracted by Cisco’s presence and Iris’ knowing look. “Works for me.”

The words are barely out of Barry’s mouth when Cisco leans forward and speaks.

“So, I have to ask—I mean, I’m sure Hartley took down the details and everything but I really just go where he tells me and when so, uh, are you guys—I mean, is this…” Cisco looks pointedly between the three of them and is met with silence. “Is this a polyamorous wedding?” Cisco finally asks in a rushed exhale. “Because if it is, that’s totally okay! It doesn’t really even change anything with the process, I just like knowing my clientele and I know it’s kind of awkward to ask but—?”

Iris starts laughing, a soft snicker that overtakes her so much she has to bury her head against Eddie’s shoulder. He looks adorably confused and pats her knee comfortingly. That leaves it up to Barry to take the lead.

“No, we’re not. Together.” He says, “it’s their wedding,” he gestures to Eddie and Iris. “I’m just the ‘really picky’ best friend who was dragged along.”

Cisco nods in understanding. “Gotcha! Okay, cool. Good to know.” He grins. “I mean, I’ve baked for poly weddings before. It was actually really interesting, you know? But not _that_ different. Which I guess makes sense, I mean, a wedding is a wedding,” he shrugs, “sorry, I’m rambling.”

Barry can feel Iris’ knowing stare burning holes in his skin, and he catches Eddie mumbling “oh god, it’s like there’s two of them” under his breath.

-

With the dress picked out and travel arrangements arranged and meals decided and nearly everything on Iris’ “Wedding Checklist” taken care of, Barry is relegated to helping Cisco perfect the cake. He still doesn’t know _why_ he has to be the one to taste-test the cake every few hours as Cisco tries to get the perfect balance of lemon and strawberry, of sweet and sour, but he’s not exactly objecting. When Cisco inevitably asks why Barry is the one left hanging around, Barry makes up some excuse about Iris and Eddie having other plans—hell, Barry even throws in the ‘picky best friend’ line again and makes up a story about his opinion of the cake being most important.

It’s bullshit, ridiculous bullshit, and judging by the grin on Cisco’s face he doesn’t believe it for a minute, but it quells the questions which is good enough for Barry.

 

“Okay, here we go.” Cisco sweeps into the room with three plates on a tray. “Seventh times the charm, right?” He asks, a bit nervous.

Barry shoots him a hopefully reassuring smile. “For what it’s worth, they’ve all tasted great,” all the same he spears a bite of cake on a fork again for what feels like the millionth time, “ _you’re_ the one who’s been saying none of them are quite right.”

Cisco sighs as he collapses into the chair across from Barry. “There’s this _look_ people get on their face when they taste the perfect cake, when they taste _the_ cake. Like, when someone picks out their wedding dress—they just _know_.”

Barry thinks back to a few weeks prior and has to agree, Iris had known in an instant and so had Barry, the moment he saw her. He nods as he chews. The zest of lemon and vanilla plays across his tongue in a perfect blend, but when he takes a forkful of frosting off the top of the piece, the delightful fresh strawberry taste is paired with an off-putting grittiness.

Barry doesn’t even have a chance to say anything before that particular cake is being pulled away by Cisco, who’s already muttering about bad recipes and trying new things and too many mistakes. Rather than try to comfort him (Barry has learned it’s pointless, as Cisco is his own worst critic, not to mention Barry knows next to nothing about cooking) Barry simply moves on to trying the next piece.

Cisco is still rambling, more to himself than at Barry directly, when something ignites in Barry’s gut. The minute the bite of cake hits his tongue, Barry feels different; he feels lighter and softer. He’s not a maestro of words, but _god_ he wishes he was so he could describe the cake. The best he can do is acknowledge that, by far, this is the best-tasting piece he’s had all day—and he’s had _a lot_ of pieces.

When he comes back down from what can only be described as a cake high, Cisco is staring at him with a lopsided grin. Barry chews slowly, savoring the sweet and sour summery blend of strawberry-lemonade that’s filling his mouth and waits expectantly for Cisco to speak. Barry swallows and sets down his fork and finally caves, “what? Why are you staring?”

Cisco’s cheeks pink but his expression doesn’t falter. “ _That’s_ the look.”

-

Somehow, in a blur of chiffon and crystals and fondant and airplane tickets, the wedding arrives way quicker than Barry expected. One day it feels like he’s still getting fitted for the suit Iris and Eddie picked for him, the next he’s waking up in a hotel room by the beach, with a wicked view of the ocean. Just as quick, the day passes by in a blur where he hardly sees anyone that isn’t hotel staff or one of Leonard Snart’s assistants. Things go so fast that by the time he’s standing with Iris, t-minus fifteen minutes for the wedding to start, Barry isn’t sure where the day has gone.

“He’s kind of a dick, Iris,” Barry hisses as they both stand back and watch Snart go off on one of his assistants, something or other having gone wrong with this or that, just like it has been all day. Snart is a terrifying man, with a strong powerful voice and a commanding presence and a legion of minions who do whatever he asks. The only reason Barry doesn’t totally hate him is twofold: Snart has made Iris’ dream wedding a reality, and every time he looks at Iris, his rough exterior softens for a split second in a way that makes him seem more human. It’s endearing, if brief.

“Yeah, but _look_ at this, Barry,” she gestures to the room around them, which is lavishly ornate for just being a sideroom. It’s impressive but it’s nothing compared to the reception hall, a gorgeous open ballroom with large bay windows that face the ocean.

“I know, Iris,” Barry leans over and kisses her quick on the forehead. “You look better, though,” he murmurs honestly.

She flashes him a grin that half cheeky and half bashful. “You’re not so shabby yourself.” She pats the lapel of his jacket just as Joe wanders into the room. In the same moment, Snart turns to them and claps his hands.

“Alright, it’s time,” he drawls and gestures them toward the door. “Come on, come on, hurry up.”

-

Barry stands back and watches as Iris and Eddie cut slices of the cake while snickering at each other. He grins to himself—and distantly, he can’t help but think how much it’s going to cost to get the cake out of all that intricate beading detail on the gown—as they slam the cake into each other’s faces. It’s so cliché and ridiculous but everyone erupts into applause and laughter and the wedding photographer’s shutter clicks rapidly.

Barry is still laughing to himself when someone bumps against his arm.

“Hey man,” Cisco looks up at him and grins.

Barry’s chokes on his words as he finally gets a better look at Cisco; he’d seen Cisco in passing here and there throughout the wedding, had stared at him maybe a bit longer than appropriate during the vows and ceremony, but he hadn’t really been able to see the details of Cisco’s suit and how _good_ he’s looking.

“Earth to Barry,” Cisco waves a hand in front of Barry’s face. “Cat got your tongue?”

Instead of answering, Barry asks, “are you single?”

Cisco’s blush is immediate. “Uh.”

“Shit,” Barry rears back. “That was really weird, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it weird.” Barry catches himself before he runs a hand through his hair (if he messes up the carefully crafted messy look, Snart will probably track him down and kill him) and instead shoves his hands into the pockets of his slacks. He’s torn between looking at Cisco for some kind of reaction that isn’t blushing shock, and looking literally anywhere else to save himself the embarrassment when Cisco finally rejects him.

“Yes.”

It takes a few moments for the word to register with Barry. “What?”

“Yes,” Cisco is grinning now and though his cheeks are still pink he looks less stunned. “I’m single.”

Barry’s heart skips a beat.

Cisco raises an expectant eyebrow. “Isn’t this the part where you ask me to dance? Or if I wanna grab coffee tomorrow?”

Barry’s mouth is moving before he’s even finished processing what Cisco has said. “Yes, yes, a thousand times yes.” Barry finally breaks into a cheek splitting grin. “Definitely yes. To both things.”

Barry looks toward the dance floor just in time to see Eddie and Iris step toward the middle, and the announcer croons them into their first dance as husband and wife. Cisco grins and claps along with the rest of the crowd before pulling Barry toward a table. He pushes and shoves until Barry sits, then takes the chair beside him.

“I’m game for dancing and I’m definitely game for getting some coffee tomorrow, but,” Cisco holds up a single finger, “I gotta know more about you first. You _fascinate_ me, and I need to know how a chemistry nerd as smoking hot as you is not already taken.”

It’s Barry’s turn to blush now, but he caves. He goes into an only slightly abridged version of his childhood—Cisco looks stricken when Barry mentions his mother’s death, but Barry doesn’t stop to dwell—as well as his love for Iris. And, okay, he can hear a little voice screaming at him as he tells Cisco all about his relationship with Iris is the worst thing he can tell someone he wants to date in the near future. Barry tells him that it never felt right dating someone who wasn’t Iris, and when Iris met Eddie, Barry decided he needed to take the time to really move on and find himself again.

Cisco teases him a little, but his smile is bright and genuine.

“So, you’re saying I got you out of your post-break up funk?” Cisco asks as he leans forward, elbows pressed into the tablecloth and rucking it up.

Barry grins. “Pretty much from the moment I saw you, yeah.” Barry scoots closer and can’t help himself when he reaches out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Cisco’s ear. “Okay, your turn, tell me about yourself.”

Cisco tells him about his estranged family, how things are getting a little better with his older brother; Cisco tells him he wanted to be an engineer but couldn’t afford it and fell in love with baking instead. Cisco tells him that he still dreams of being on _Cake Wars_ or _Cupcake Wars_ or really anything, because he kind of desperately wants a taste of stardom.

Barry interrupts long enough to assure Cisco that with how delicious and beautiful his cakes are, stardom will be easily reached. Cisco blushes bright like before and Barry drinks in the sight. The lull in their conversation lasts long enough that Barry’s attention is pulled back to the dance floor where other couples are mingling now. So, he stands and holds out his hand to Cisco expectantly. Still blushing, Cisco takes the proffered grip and follows Barry into the fray of people swaying gently in time to the music.

They’ve been dancing for several minutes, keeping their pace obnoxiously slow even when songs speed up around them, when Cisco speaks again. “Tell me something else,” he asks quietly, a grin curling at his lips.

“Like what?” Barry asks; Cisco’s hands curled around Barry’s shoulders is wonderfully distracting.

Cisco hums as though he’s contemplating. “Something that’s been troubling you,” he decides, though his tone is still light. “Or, whatever, y’know. I wanna get to know you.” Cisco smiles up at him and really, how can Barry resist?

Barry’s brain freezes before kicking into overdrive, and Barry is speaking before he can stop himself. “I keep thinking about how good you looked outside in the sun and how badly I wanted to kiss you and how much sex in the sand would _suck_ because I really don’t wanna get sand in my underwear or something.”

They don’t stop dancing, but Cisco’s whole body tenses for a split second. For that brief moment in time Barry is sure he’s somehow messed everything up—his propensity for rambling is like a disease.

But then Cisco laughs, laughs so hard he shakes and falls against Barry’s body and laughs so loudly they draw stares from other dancers. Barry pats Cisco’s head as though to comfort him, finds himself enamored with the soft hair beneath his fingertips. Eventually, when Cisco’s laughter shows absolutely zero signs of stopping, Barry guides him off the dance floor and away from other wedding goers.

Barry waits until, finally, Cisco’s laughter subsides. He’s still clutching at the lapels of Barry’s jacket and his eyes are wet from delighted crying. “Done?” Barry asks though he can’t find it in himself to lace a trace of malice in his tone. Cisco’s laughter is intoxicating, especially when Barry is the one to have caused it.

Cisco takes a deep breath, exhales slowly, then speaks. “Sorry, sorry, just—you’re so cute.” Cisco reaches up and cups Barry’s cheek. “Sex on the beach is literally one of the worst ideas ever.”

Barry pouts. “I know that! It’s not my fault that’s all I’ve been able to focus on. Iris picked a beach wedding, and you’re crazy hot, you put two and two together and—!”

Cisco starts to snicker again but it fades quicker. “I really want to kiss you now, is that okay?” Cisco asks as he’s already leaning in closer, tilting his head at just the right angle.

Barry startles, in a good way; it feels like an electric shock to his system, one that jumpstarts his heart and has it racing. He doesn’t bother nodding or answering and instead meets Cisco halfway.


End file.
